I follow the duke through the long corridors, halls and gardens until we reach a tall wooden door. He opens it and I see one of my favourite childhood places.
"This is the library of his majesty King Charles V," the duke says.
"Yes I know your highness, "I am smiling now," I had my lessons here when I was a girl."
"In here you will find plenty of information on his majesty," he continues, "If you need any more, do not hesitate to ask me."
"I'm sure this will be more than enough," I tell him," your highness."
He leaves and I rush to the shelves. There must be at least 100 books here. When I was younger, this was my favourite place. I would sit here and read for as long as nobody came in, which never seemed long enough.
I bury myself in books on the history of nearly everything to do with Charles V, from the creation of this palace to the plague. I am so absorbed by these books that I do not realise that it is night time and when I look up at the window I rush to my carriage and go straight home.
When I get home Jean is sitting at the table, staring at me with accusing eyes. No one says anything for a while, so I speak first.
"The duke has asked me to write a biography of his majesty King Charles V," I tell him.
He continues to stare.
"So Jean what did you do today?" I ask, scared of the answer.
"I wandered around the city, "he replies," Took in the sights, the poor, the sick, the people your precious duke won't assist."
I walk away from him to my chamber and sit down on the bed, seething. What doesn't he understand? I dislike the poverty as much as he does. In fact I hate it. He has ruined the day. I go to sleep angry.
Sometime between 1392 and 1402
I follow the duke through the long corridors, halls and gardens until we reach a tall wooden door. He opens it and I see one of my favourite childhood places.
"This is the library of his majesty King Charles V," the duke says.
"Yes I know your highness, "I am smiling now," I had my lessons here when I was a girl."
"In here you will find plenty of information on his majesty," he continues, "If you need any more, do not hesitate to ask me."
"I'm sure this will be more than enough," I tell him," your highness."
He leaves and I rush to the shelves. There must be at least 100 books here. When I was younger, this was my favourite place. I would sit here and read for as long as nobody came in, which never seemed long enough.
I bury myself in books on the history of nearly everything to do with Charles V, from the creation of this palace to the plague. I am so absorbed by these books that I do not realise that it is night time and when I look up at the window I rush to my carriage and go straight home.
When I get home Jean is sitting at the table, staring at me with accusing eyes. No one says anything for a while, so I speak first.
"The duke has asked me to write a biography of his majesty King Charles V," I tell him.
He continues to stare.
"So Jean what did you do today?" I ask, scared of the answer.
"I wandered around the city, "he replies," Took in the sights, the poor, the sick, the people your precious duke won't assist."
I walk away from him to my chamber and sit down on the bed, seething. What doesn't he understand? I dislike the poverty as much as he does. In fact I hate it. He has ruined the day. I go to sleep angry.